


Always Proofread Your Pentagrams

by FindingZ



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Game, Biting, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Demon Summoning, M/M, Oral Sex, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 05:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20186707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingZ/pseuds/FindingZ
Summary: Karkat borrows some of Terezi's summoning notes to finally get himself a familiar.That is...not what he gets.





	Always Proofread Your Pentagrams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bellmandi86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellmandi86/gifts).

Ironically, working with the chalk is the hardest part.

The spell is simple enough. A standard summoning circle, sigils around all possible exits, and blood. Your blood, of course. Half a liter, which is far more than you were used to having to shell out, but you’d worked out a system over the past perigee, keeping a jug in the fridge that you’d added to a bit at a time. Annoying, but simple enough.

The chalk, though, you’d had to swipe from Terezi. Her _good_ chalk, the kind that lays down thick, solid lines and doesn’t snap as fast if you squeezed it too hard. You’d had to pull some big-budget-spy-movie stealth shenanigans to make off with a few pieces.

As you attempt for the fourth time to tie a piece of chalk to the string you’d slipped around a loose nail in the floor, you think that you would easily have gone for twice the blood requirement if it meant you didn’t have to once again face how very not-dexterous you are with knots. Jesus _Christ_.

You give up after the fifth attempt, and settle for pinching the string against the chalk as hard as you can as you shuffle around, keeping the string taut while you drag the chalk across the floor. At least you don’t have to _freehand_ the circle.

The notes you swiped from ‘Rezi say that you need to pool about a third of the blood in the center of the circle, and then drip it as evenly as possible in a counterclockwise spiral that ends at the outer edge, where you’ll be standing. Doing this without smearing it everywhere or disturbing the symbols inside is an _absolutely_ pain in your shameglobes, but you manage. Barely. If you have to go in with a rag and mop up a few stray droplets that are out of alignment, well. The demon won’t know.

Hopefully.

You’ve definitely never seen a binding setup like this before, like you’re luring the demon towards you from the center out with your blood. You don’t know what the point of it is if it’s trapped anyway, but Terezi has always been much better at summoning than you so you try not to question it.

Still, though. Fucking weird.

Next you’re supposed to “stand with the tips of your toes precisely one-hair’s-breath away from the outer rim of the circle, and picture in your mind all of the qualities you hold in highest regard while repeating the following lines.”

The following lines are in Old High Alternian, of which fluency in has been punishable by agonizing torture followed by an even more agonizing culling for millennia. So, like everyone else, you learned it on the internet.

The words that flow off your tongue speak of power condensed into physical form and given one, singular purpose; of temperaments more chaotic than whirlwinds and just as volatile; of a great, great hunger that has never been satisfied. It’s not entirely what you anticipated the summoning chant to be, but you try to call up and focus on the qualities mentioned beforehand without letting your mind wander. You’ve never summoned anything like this before, and _definitely _have never tried to get anything to enter a contract with you.

You keep up the chanting and the picturing-your-favorite-qualities. Nothing happens for at least five straight minutes. You’re just about to give up when –

There’s a sort of…shimmer in the air, in the center where your blood is. Like superheated air, or like the mirage you saw at the edge of the desert once.

You blink, and in the microsecond that you can’t see anything, a…troll appears in the center of your circle.

No, that’s not quite right. You lock your knees so you don’t accidentally lean forward into the circle to get a better look at them. They have the general appearance of a troll – two eyes two arms two legs two horns etc – but, as they turn their iridescent gold eyes on you, you suddenly can’t think of why that’s important.

They blink at you, very slowly. Their eyes have vertical pupils, like the slitherbeasts you used to chase around when you were younger. They have….fins? Emerging from the side of their face, and they perk up and flare out the longer you stare at them without saying anything.

Fuck, you’re not saying anything. You’ve got to go through the ritual, not stand here gaping.

You clear your throat, wincing as the sound rattles obnoxiously in the silent, enclosed room, and try to remember the Old High Alternian words.

“_I would lend you my name: Karkat. Lend me yours so that we may bind this moment of our lives._”

They blink at you, and glance down at the book in your hand. Then, as if they’ve only just noticed it, they slowly, slowly crouch down and touch a single finger to the drying, crusty puddle at their feet. They bring their hand up to their nose and sniff at it delicately, an expression on their face like when you sniff the moobeast-milk jug to see if it’s still good.

Something in their eyes flickers – literally flickers, like whatever your blood smells like to them has lit a candle in their skull. Their tongue pokes out – and out and out, gods, how _long_ is it? – and licks gingerly at their finger.

“_Oh._” Their voice – deep, a little raspy, with a strange bubbly quality, like they’re speaking from a fishtank – makes you jump. You weren’t expecting it to give you the shivers.

Their eyes zero in on you, their head swiveling to face you unnervingly. They pace outward, following the blood spiral, moving without breaking eye contact with you. By the time they’ve reached the outer edge of the circle, you’ve picked up on a peculiar scent emanating off of them – crisp like a cold day, and salty-bitter like the one time you travelled all the way out to the sea.

They aren’t saying anything. Maybe you’d messed up the grammar? Maybe you should try something simpler.

“_Contract? With me?”_

They make a strange burbling, bubbling noise, emanating from deep in their chest. They’re _laughing_. At you! When they open their mouth to speak, you’re so preoccupied by your own indignation that the deep, raspy voice catches you off-guard.

“Haven’ heard that sorta speech in awhile. ‘Preciate the effort, but I’m sure I’m better at yours than you are mine.” He holds his hand up, palm out facing you, just a hair’s breadth from the edge of the circle. “You can call me Eridan.”

This part, at least, is familiar. You mirror the gesture and extend your own hand past the boundary of the circle, flattening your palm against his (his? You’re pretty sure it’s a ‘his’). “I accept the gift of your name,” you say in normal Alternian, thanking whatever gods are watching you that you’ve been given the opportunity to sound like less of a pompous panwaffle. “What is the price you would ask for a contract between us?”

That bubbling-running-water laugh again. “My price huh? ‘S long as you agree to fulfill the obligations of my nature, I won’t ask for much more.” He gives you a lopsided smile. His teeth seem to be similar-ish in number to yours but shine with the sort of sharpness that you’ve only seen in your daymares. “I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna like you a lot, so I won’t be askin’ for more than that.”

Obligations of his nature? You want, desperately, to rifle through your notes. You hadn’t remembered anything about companion-familiar demons having anything of the sort. “And what are those?”

That grin again. “I need to be fed, of course.”

Oh, is that all? You hope you manage to hide the relief that rushes through you. “That’s understandable. I accept your terms.”

Quick as a flash, he twists his hand so he’s gripping you by the wrist, pulling it up to his face. “Figured you might,” he says, and closes his teeth around the base of your third finger before you can come to your senses and pull away.

The pain is…not that bad, actually. The initial sting is more akin to being pricked with a row of needles, and by the time he’s released you and you’ve taken your hand back, it’s faded into a warm buzz that seems to crawl slowly up your hand.

You look down; the bite mark is neat, clean, and isn’t bleeding at all.

You _definitely _don’t remember reading anything like this in your notes. You rub at the mark a few times, noting that it doesn’t feel sore at all. “What’s this?”

“Our contract.” Are you mistaken or are Eridan’s eyes brighter than before? “When that heals, the time will be up.”

You frown. That’s it? You’d been hoping for something longer – Terezi’s contract with her familiar lasts for another four sweeps at least. “That’s like four nights.”

Eridan takes your hand again and steps neatly out of the circle, rolling his shoulders. “Nah.” He flashes his teeth at you. “I’ve got venom that makes things heal slower. I get you for twice that, easy. ‘Course,” he licks his lips, “I can always put the bite in other places if you’re looking for a more…long-term relationship.”

You are starting to think you _might_ have made some sort of grievous error. Terezi has zero shame in wandering around her hive naked when you’ve come over to visit, and you know for a fact that she doesn’t have _anything _resembling a bite mark sealing her familiar. “Other places?”

“Your neck is a good place,” he says, and steps even closer to you, practically plastering himself to your side. “I prefer the inside of the thigh, though.”

That’s…huh. You move away from him, hoping that he doesn’t see how pathetically red your face just got. “We’ll, uh, we’ll see how it goes.”

“I suppose we will.” Eridan trails after you as you head into your respiteblock, his bare feet making absolutely zero noise on the floor. If he wasn’t speaking, you wouldn’t have any idea that he was following you. “I’ve been told I’m _very_ convincin’.”

His voice has taken on an undertone that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck. You steel your shoulders, trying to seem unaffected, and gesture to the pile you’ve made in the corner of the block. You weren’t anticipating a _full-sized_ demon, so it’s probably a bit too small, but it should be sufficient until you can get some more supplies tomorrow. “This is where you’ll sl—hey!”

When you turn around, you see that Eridan has already burrowed into your own pile and made himself at hive. He’s rolled onto his back and is looking up at you with that absolutely infuriating little smile. He stretches, and has the gall to yawn at you.

“What? I need to feed soon anyway, and I can smell that you wouldn’t mind.”

“You can smell– what?” You splutter, taking a step back. “What does you, you _smelling_ me have to do with you being fed?”

Eridan closes his mouth with an audible click. “Uh, everythin’?”

Remembering the scribbled note that familiars are sustained independently of their masters prompts you to ask, hesitantly, “…Just what sort of demon are you, again?”

Eridan rolls over onto his stomach. “Well, an incubus ‘o course.”

_Shit_.

His face loses some of that confidence, falling slightly. “That’s….not what you were aimin’ for, was it?”

“Uh, not quite.”

Eridan visibly deflates, the gold in his eyes fading a little bit. “I can, um. I mean, I can’t really _leave_, but if you don’t….I can’t feed off of someone who’s not willin’, so – I mean, I can figure somethin’ out?” He starts awkwardly clambering off of your pile, skidding as the materials shift under him in his haste to stand up.

Gods. What are you going to do with an _incubus_ for the next few days?

Besides, well. The obvious. It _is_ how they feed, and you agreed to feed him. Even if you hadn’t been fully informed of what the contract actually entailed, it’s still binding. You’d read that enough in your books to know that much, at least.

Not that feeding Eridan would be much of a hardship, to be honest. He’s…definitely not hard on the eyes.

Eridan freezes and his pupils blow out, the gold shimmer seeping back into them. “Oh. I’m not what you wanted, maybe, but I don’t think you mind too much?”

You duck your head, trying to hide the heat that’s rushed to your face. “Yeah, I…don’t mind.”

Confidence regained, he saunters over – looking ridiculous but honestly it’s kind of endearing? – and reaches out to run the pad of his thumb up the side of your horn. The slight roughness of his skin makes you shiver.

“What d’you like, Karkat?”

“Uh.”

He brings his other hand up and cups your cheek, very gently. You can feel the tips of his claws against your temple. “The more you like it, the more _I _like it, so don’t be shy.”

His gaze is making you dizzy. “I don’t…I haven’t, uh. Drone season hasn’t happened for me yet.”

He laughs, and it tugs at something deep in the pit of your stomach. “I’m not askin’ about the mandated shit your society makes you do, I’m askin’ about what _you_ like. What you do after the sun comes up, hm?”

“Nothing…imaginative.”

“’S that so? Lucky for you then,” he slides his hand down your face to cup your chin and tilt your face up, “I’m _real _imaginative.”

Gods. _Gods. _He’s so awful, since when have those sorts of lines made you all warm and itchy inside? He’s got no right to be that confident saying shit like that. And yet.

It’s working.

You don’t want him to know how well it’s working. “Yeah? You get a lot of sad virgins who think that the most adventurous thing they’ve done is a finger up their nook in your line of work?”

His face fins flare out and…wow his teeth are even more deadly-looking up close. “A sad little virgin, huh? I’m thinkin’ I can work with that.”

“You like that,” you accuse, trying to get your damn stomach under control. Base displays like that shouldn’t make you feel two seconds away from dripping through your pants.

He grins. “I do. Virgins always taste better.”

“They _taste_ better?”

“Very. All that pent up energy, all that desperation, just waiting to find an outlet.” He licks his lips, and you try not to gawk at how long his tongue seems to be. “Nothin’ like it.”

“Is that who usually summons you? Desperate virgins?”

“Mmm, sometimes.” His hands have migrated to your shoulders, where they knead at the muscle there. You feel yourself well on the way into becoming a puddle of goop on the floor. “I don’t get summoned much anymore. Not on this plane of reality, anyway. ‘N when I do, they aren’t usually as interestin’ as you.”

You’re being maneuvered down into the pile with him. You can’t think of any reason why you’d want to object. “Me?”

“_Yeah_.” He leans in abruptly, burying his face in your neck. You think he’s…sniffing you? “Somethin’ about you is…magnetic.”

That makes you laugh. “Magnetic? That’s the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard.”

Eridan tilts his head, still mushed into the side of your neck. His lips scrape against the sensitive skin when he speaks. “Why’s that?”

“I’m seven perigees old, have only two or three people that tolerate me enough to fit into the close friends category, have never had a quadrant filled in my whole life, and woke up this evening with the intention of summoning a familiar so I could have something to break the fucking monotony around here. I’d hardly think that makes me _magnetic_.”

“You _are_, though!” Eridan wriggles closer. He’s practically draped over you like a second skin now. “Somethin’ about you – your blood, maybe? – makes me feel like I’m bein’ tugged to you. Makes me wanna…”

You tilt your head to look at him. “Want to what?”

That toothy grin again. “Wanna do this,” he says, and kisses you.

It takes you a moment to respond – he’s kissing you softly, mouth relaxed and plush against yours, but there’s a current of unyielding determination in his every move that blindsides you and leaves you frozen, until –

He’s _kissing_ you. Gods, how can you not react?

Before you know it you’ve been guided down to lie on the pile, stretched out on your back. When he ducks his head down to mouth at your neck, digging his teeth in enough to make you swear and twist about underneath him, you don’t stop him when he brings one of his hands up to tangle with yours, effectively pinning it down.

He pulls back, grinning. “Good?”

You roll your eyes. “Having trouble figuring it out? Were you all talk earlier or did I manage to summon an amateur?”

He narrows his eyes. For some reason it makes your breath come short. “I’m older ‘n your entire _civilization_, little thing. I know what I’m fuckin’ doin’.”

“Hmm.” It’s probably not a great idea to be riling up the literal demon who’s got you half-pinned, but you like the way he looks like you’ve just ruffled all his feathers.

He hisses – actually hisses, opens his mouth and bares those teeth and _hisses_ at you – and snags your other hand and pins that too. “Consider yourself lucky that I don’t jus’ decide to eat you ‘n be done with it.”

If he notices the shiver that goes through your entire body – followed by what you’re pretty sure is slick starting to seep into your pants – he doesn’t comment on it.

“Yeah? What’s stopping you then, huh? My irresistible animal magnetism?”

He closes his mouth and tilts his head. The slow, slightly ominous smirk that comes over his face puts you on edge. “Nah, I’m thinkin’ that your ‘irresistible animal magnetism’ is actually making me _more _inclined.”

You assume he’s joking, so you don’t do more than huff and squirm a bit when he unceremoniously yanks your pants off. The teeth he then sinks into your hip, hard, makes you a little less sure.

“_Ouch_, the fuck are you doing?”

Eridan tilts his up towards you just enough for you to see the obnoxiously raised single eyebrow. “’M gonna eat you.”

You _think_ he’s joking, but you can see blood welling up a bit in the teethmarks and you suddenly aren’t quite sure. You try to free your hands, but it’s completely useless.

He laughs a bit at your struggling – _laughs_, the smug bastard. “Relax, Kar. You’re gonna like bein’ eaten.”

He’s _probably_ joking or making some sort of nasty innuendo that you don’t understand, but, but – the smallest hint of uncertainty is enough to send a ripple of genuine fear coursing through your pump biscuit. Said fear is, apparently, not enough to convince your bulge to re-sheath itself.

Eridan leans forward and runs the tip of his nose up along its length, exhaling sharply. The rush of barely-there sensation is distracting enough to keep you from appreciating how ridiculous he looks with pre-slurry smeared over his nose and cheeks. That long – stupidly long, _illegally_ long – tongue curls out to lick the droplets off, and he hums a bit like he’s considering some sort of fine delicacy.

He rests his cheek on your still-bleeding hip and meets your eyes. “Shoulda known you’d taste better than you smelled. You taste sweet, but you smell kinda salty, y’know?” He licks his lips again. “It’s a _very _nice combo.”

You sputter a bit, still struggling to free at least one hand. “I’m not a fucking dessert!”

“No?” He bites you again, on the top of your thigh this time. “I beg to fuckin’ differ.”

While you’re still writhing from the sting, he pushes one of your legs up and out, wriggles a little to adjust his positioning, and –

Oh. _Oh_.

So _that’s_ what he meant.

Your entire body goes lax under him at once. His tongue, somehow, isn’t nearly as cold as the rest of him, and it’s _soft_. Just the feeling of him gently licking over the folds of your nook is enough to make the beginnings of a chirp start to build in your chest.

It feels good. It feels so much more than good, and you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Eridan – _ah, _what…?” When you say his name, he turns his head and bites the squishiest part of your inner thigh. Somehow this time the sting feels different – it feels like warmth being poured directly into your muscles, making your legs twitch open and your back curve. “What are you – ”

He speaks directly into your skin, wrenching that chirp from your throat. “Told you you’d like bein’ eaten.”

He sounds so disgustingly pleased with himself, but you can’t bring yourself to do more than twitch in indignation because it feels _good_. You can’t even tell what he’s doing with his tongue anymore but whatever it is it’s got you reduced to a pathetic puddle of goo, desperately trying to keep hold of yourself before you do something embarrassing like moan and let your eyes roll back.

He bites your thighs _again_ and this time you really, really can’t help it. The moan that comes out of your mouth sounds like something straight out of the pailing vids Sollux sent you that one time to annoy you, and your whole body jerks hard enough to send you slipping halfway off the pile. The impact of your head and upper back onto the hard floor doesn’t bother you – not when the now-elevated angle of your lower body has Eridan making a _hmm?_ noise into you that sets you twitching all over again.

He pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and rucking your shirt up your chest with his other. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d released you. You whine a little, unbidden, and try to keep your newly-freed hands from grabbing him by the hair and yanking him back down.

Gods, that fucking grin. “Enjoyin’ yourself?”

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of a response – and you know that your voice would betray you the second you opened your mouth – so you turn your head to the side and chew on the inside of your lip, trying to keep your breathing even.

He seems to know what you’re up to – he crawls up your body and curves a hand over one of your horns, sending sparks of heat into your brain as he turns you to face him.

“Mm-mm, don’t do that.” He leans down and kisses you so fucking gently that your mouth falls open automatically, gnawed lip forgotten. “Y’know that even if I _wasn’t_ what I am, I’d be able to tell how much fun you’re havin’, right? You’re like an open book.” He squeezes your horn suddenly, sharply enough to wrench a whine from you. “’S cute. You tryna hide how much you like it is cute too, but I want you to _relax_.” He punctuates himself by grabbing the tip of your horn and tugging, just a little, and gods you just really, really can’t be responsible for your own actions anymore.

He doesn’t seem annoyed when your hands fly to his shoulders and (try to) push him back down – rather, he seems more delighted than if you’d told him it was his wriggling day.

Do demons even have wriggling days?

Any attempt to follow that train of thought is blown out of the atmosphere immediately when, instead of putting his mouth back on you like before, Eridan rests his cheek on your thigh and promptly crams three fingers into your nook.

“Oh, _oh_, what – go back to, mmm – ” You want to feel the soft pressure of his mouth again, but the firm stretch of his fingers is winding you up faster than you thought possible. It doesn’t feel like the same skittering shocks through your nervous system like it did when he was using his tongue – the insistent press of his fingers doesn’t feel directly like much of anything, but a ball of heat is growing in your lower stomach, making you let out pathetic whimpers and thrash around a bit.

“Mmm, that’s more like it, yeah?” He pins your thigh down with an elbow and sucks a mark into the seam where your leg meets your hip. The feel of his mouth _so _close to where you want it makes you chirp, shamelessly.

It’s _good_. You’re about to explode all over him like a teenager on a hair-trigger.

His fingers press up against something that makes you hiccup in pleasure, and he laughs. “A hair-trigger, hm? I’ll be takin’ that as a compliment.”

(Fuck, fuck, you hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud, is he seriously making you babble your pan right out your mouth?)

(He is)

You don’t even realize that your orgasm is nearing until it hits you. Once moment you’re alternating between moving your hips down onto his fingers in quick, desperate rolls and bucking up towards his face in the hopes that you’ll get to feel his mouth again. The next, you’re scrabbling uselessly at the floor, fingers stuffed in your mouth, crying out loud enough that the sound echoes off the walls.

Eridan doesn’t stop when you start writhing, continuing his motions until you’re frantically (and weakly) pushing at his shoulders and forehead to try to get him to back off as oversensitivity makes you growl at the ceiling. He strings you along until you’ve lost all coordination and are biting back whimpers – only at the precise moment that you’re about to shout that you can’t take any more does he pull back.

You lie there like you just ran a marathon, staring at the ceiling.

He pulls himself up to lie half-sprawled on top of you, looking absurdly smug. You can’t even summon the energy to blush when he openly sucks your slick and slurry off of his fingers.

You feel like you’ve been hit by a goddamn battle cruiser.

Eridan hums, chasing a drop of…_something_ down his wrist. “Mmm, that was pretty good huh? I haven’t had a meal that good in a _long_ time.” He runs a – sticky, _ugh_ – thumb over your lower lip. “You can thank me whenever, by the way.”

If you had more energy, you’d bite him.

“Fuck off,” you mumble. “You should be fucking thanking _me_, if you got that much energy from me.”

He laughs and brushes a few bits of hair from your forehead. “I’m definitely keepin’ you.”

“Keep _me_?” You struggle to sit up. He doesn’t help you, looking at you with an amused glint in his eyes. “I’m the one who created the contract!”

He pushes you back down and grabs one of your legs. “You created it, but I can make…additions. Extensions.” He pulls your thigh up and, wow. Okay. Your legs look like you were attacked by a pack of feral animals.

Wait.

“Extensions? You mean – ”

His smile pulls wider, showing off what has to be at least two dozen teeth. “I do mean.” He stands up and stretches exaggeratedly. He even has the nerve to fucking yawn at you. “’N I won’t be needing a spare room. I’ll be sleepin’ with you, of course. In case I get hungry.”

Oh, sweet Sufferer. You’re not going to be getting any sleep for a perigee.

You’re looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a ton of fun writing this!! I know I deviated a *liiiittle* bit from your OG prompt, but hopefully it's still in the realm of what you were hoping for!


End file.
